Jukebox Queen
by wyverna
Summary: A fluffy collection of one shots that I don't wish to publish individually. NEW CHAPTER.
1. Jukebox Queen

There's a small '50s type diner in this town, I don't know if you've been there. It's called Rudy's Can't Fail Café, but everyone just calls it Rudy's. There's only certain people that go there, and if you're not one of them then you don't even consider. It's not that you wouldn't be welcome (although you probably wouldn't), it's just... not an option. It's dark inside and smoky, and there are tacky red shiny booths, and a pretty red-haired waitress behind the counter. Everyone knows everyone there, and it's a regular hang out. There's no dress code, and no labels, it's more of an instinct, and if you don't feel comfortable there at first, then you never will. You know if it's your kind of place from the minute you walk through the door, and if it is, then you're in luck.

In Rudy's you can meet the beautiful people, the mysterious people and the downright weird. There's all kinds of people with all kinds of lifestyles, and the amazing thing is that they all get along. If you're accepted into this place then you're one of them and _that_, my friend, is a wonderful thing to be. Every time you push open the plastic door and hear that tinkle from the old bell you just know you're going to be surrounded by friends, and I've spent many a night there myself, with a drink in my hand and the best company in the world. When I'm upset, angry or simply overjoyed I just go straight to Rudy's, not to talk but just to _be_.

But enough about me. I'm not the important one in this story. Remember I was telling you before about the many kind of people here in Rudy's? There's one girl in particular that everyone knows, although not by name. Names are hardly ever used in Rudy's, they're not important. This girl is sweet sixteen and _special_, and everyone knows it except her. She owns the place, and you can tell from the way she's treated. You'll see her usually by the jukebox, an old fashioned one with lights and creaks, and she just fits right into place. Her long dark hair hangs down her back, and her beautiful dark eyes never seem to meet your gaze, just stare right off into the distance. She rarely smiles but if she does then the whole place lights up, and the mood changes just as soon as she walks in. Dressed always in an old flower print dress and big black combat boots, she commands respect and you wouldn't dream of opposing her.

Like I said, her place is by the jukebox and that's where she goes. She doesn't need money for the 'box, it's just one of those things, and whenever she's there – which is often – you can be sure of hearing some good music. She plays all the classics, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, The Who, and she knows every line, though she never sings. It's like stepping back in time, is going into Rudy's, and no one dances, no, they twist, they jive, they groove. She never joins in, she only watches, and that's the way it's always going to be. Sometimes she'll sit in the corner with a drink, but she never has to buy her own. There's always a queue of admirers lining up as soon as she steps over, and they never get tired of trying even though the only words she ever says to them is a quiet "thank you".

There's never a silence near her, and she's quickly surrounded by a large crowd of 'friends', each anxious to impress. You don't know if she's enjoying it or not, she just thoughtfully sips her drink and listens. Sometimes someone else will take over the jukebox, though they can never play exactly what the people want, not like she can. After she's finished her drink – and she only ever has one – she'll walk back over to that 'box, and whoever is there will immediately leave respectfully,_ knowing_ that it's her place and not theirs,_ wanting_ her to continue playing those songs. Everyone who's met her likes her – whether she knows it or not she just has that rare charisma that attracts people to her – and she seems to like everyone.

I spoke to her once, didn't say much, just asked her how she does it. She didn't seem to know what I was talking about at first, so I explained that I just wanted to know how she knows so much about music, as I couldn't put my deeper thoughts into words. She honored me with a smile, and I flushed under her knowing gaze, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. She answered me with only six words, but those six words said it all.

"I used to manage a band."


	2. fluffXcore

I know I always wanted to be famous. The phrase be careful what you wish for has never seemed more appropriate. But I never wanted this. I never wanted complete strangers coming up to me on the street and calling me a 'sell out' because I jumped at the chance to play for thousands. I never wanted people hating us when they don't even know us. And I never, ever wanted to hurt my friends.

Freddy's dug himself deeper into the drug scene. He got into it when he started going out with some Canadian girl that he was head over heels for, and got further into it when said girl dumped him for some red-haired up-and-coming young actor. He was heartbroken and turned to the drugs that she'd introduced him to. He's slipped into a downward spiral and no one seems to be able to lift him out of it.

Lawrence, poor Lawrence, refuses to face the world. All Lawrence wants is to like people, and for people to like him. He's not attention seeking or selfish – he's too pure to be selfish – but he's just too... nice. And now people hate him, and he can't understand why, so he blames himself. It hurts him so much when people launch vicious attacks. The rest of us try to laugh it off, but Lawrence takes it all personally. He always was too nice for the music biz.

Summer's got herself in with a bunch of 'famous friends'. If they've been in the paper at least once, then Summer will know their names and numbers. By far the most well known of the band – and don't get me wrong, five times as many people love us as hate us, but Summer's always making the headlines. She never talks to us anymore, never sees us anymore – she only has time for her new friends. If I wasn't one of her closest friends and I saw her in the paper then I'd call her 'attention seeking' without a second thought, but I know from experience that judging people you don't know can only be a bad thing. And who knows? Maybe she genuinely likes them for who they are.

Then again, maybe not.

And then there's me. Zack calls me pessimistic, but I just tell him that I see the truth. I don't want to be here. I want to be a positive role model, but my dream has turned into my nightmare. I care about the music. I care about saving lives. I care about making a difference to people, just like my favorite bands made a difference to me. But all the letters I seem to get are telling me the exact opposite.

"When did all this happen?" I mumble aloud, burying my head in my hands. I'm sat in a dark hotel corridor somewhere, my back against the wall and my knees against my chest, dark hair falling over my face and into my eyes. "When did it all go wrong?"

I feel a reassuring hand on my back and know who it is without even looking up; Zack. Who else would it be? Who else cares? "Katie... it's all right."

His words strike a chord, and I sit up straight and glare at him. "No! It's not all right! Every single one of my band members is slowly killing themselves in one way or another, and that's if you can even call us a band anymore!"

"Katie--"

"You don't get it! I want to be somewhere where people who aren't you call me Katie, and not Posh Spice! It's not even original!"

"This is a part of fame," Zack says gently, slipping his arm around my shoulders and drawing me close. "I know you didn't want all this, but things are going to change. You can't save everyone, as much as you'd like to. And you've already saved lots of people. You don't notice it, but people look up to you, Katie. Thousands of people respect you and what you're trying to do. Besides, one thing that won't change is that you'll always have me."

I suddenly pick up on his last sentence, and it seems to me as though there's more to it than that. Zack has never been one to waste words, and he never says something unless he means it. Suddenly intrigued, I catch his eye. "Zack, what... what did you say?"

He stands up, very interested in his shoes, and I think I can detect a faint blush on his cheeks. Or am I just imagining it? "Nothing," he mutters, fiddling with his necklace – a guitar pick on a delicate silver chain.

I stand up, too, not wanting to take 'no' for an answer. I need to know this. It's important to me. I step closer to him and gaze at him intently. "No – please – what did you say?"

"I said you'd always have me," he mumbles, stumbling over the words and refusing to look me in the eye.

"Zack..." I'm over come with emotion; the events of the past few months are building up and a few tears slip out. "Do you really mean it?" I hardly dare ask, unsure of whether I want to hear the answer, but Zack doesn't disappoint, just nods shyly.

"Friends forever, remember?" he whispers. I know I'm going to break down any minute now, but I manage to choke out another few words. Everything now depends on his reply to my next question.

"More than friends?" Maybe I'm risking my entire friendship, one of the only things I have left, but I stand to gain something special. The tears come flooding out now, my whole body shaking, and Zack wraps me in a warm hug which is all the answer I need.

"I can't stand to see you cry..."

At least one good thing has come out of all this and, as Zack wipes the tears away from my eyes with his rough guitar player's thumb, our lips meet. I'm trembling, about to melt, and I know what I've been too blind to see all along.

"I love you," he tells me softly, getting there first, and I smile.

"I love you, too," I reply.

We both speak at the same time and, although my mind is screaming cliché, my heart is whispering perfect.

"I always have."


	3. Right, Nanners?

OK, I originally wrote this as a joke, to entertain Nanners-77, but then we had this conversation:

wyverna: yeah, i dont think i'lll publish it though  
wyverna: haha  
wyverna: the part where i spaz out at summer was making me laugh so hard though  
nanners-77: do it! it will be so funny!  
nanners-77: just add it as a oneshot in your collection.  
wyverna: k, i'll do it in a minute  
nanners-77: you also have to put that the one shot was created to further publicize the hatred for Z/S and thelove for F/S  
wyverna: yes, i will  
wyverna: and my insistence that it is not a proper shipping

So there you go, and here this is.

* * *

"Class, we have two new students."

The infamous lines echoed around the classroom and predictably only Summer Hathaway looked up from what she was doing to pay attention. The older woman they knew as Mrs Jidigger was stood there, frowning at the doorway, where the 'two new students' were apparently stood. She tapped her foot impatiently a few times, waiting for them to enter, but no one appeared and the class began to wonder among themselves whether or not Mrs Jidigger was still in posession of all her marbles, as it were. Just when everyone but Summer had given up and turned back to what they were doing, the sounds of a faint argument could be heard, apparently debating the values of the once popular TV shows; _Pokémon_ and _Sailor Moon_.

".._Sailor Moon_ is definitely better than _Pokémon_," a voice argued, and a lot of the students looked surprised. They were in 12th grade, not kindergarten therefore this was not a subject that they usually heard discussed.

"No way," a new voice replied firmly. "Charizard thoroughly owns _Sailor Moon_ and you know it, man." The voices drew closer and Mrs Jidigger cleared her throat proudly, attracting the attention of the whole class this time.

"Children- uh, young men and ladies, allow me to actually introduce our two new students. First of all, this is Deanna Nits... Nitsop..."

"Nitsopoulos." A tall, athletically built female walked into the class. Her dark purple hair shone in the dim lights that illuminated the class. Her make up was thin as she realized at a young age that her natural beauty would carry her. There was a confident air around her that made the other girls in the class insanely jealous and after just one glance Zack was starstruck, gazing dreamily at Deanna. Summer leapt up from her desk at the sound of the unusual surname.

"Nitsopoulos?" She knew straight away that she was probably the only one able to pronounce it, but it still didn't take away from her interest. "As in, daughter of Richard Nitsopoulos?"

"Yes." Deanna glared at her. "What's it to you?"

"Isn't Richard Nitsopoulos a famous billionaire?"

"Yeah." Now Deanna definitely seemed hostile. "So what? I'm sure a lot of kids at this school have rich parents. Jeez."

"Woah, Summer, stalker much?" Freddy muttered under his breath, ignoring the delighted look sent his way by the newcomer, who leaned out of the doorway and muttered something to someone who was clearly just out of sight, the words 'sexual tension' being the only ones audible. This sent a new thought into his head, and he leaned forward. "What about that other new chick?"

"Who said it was a 'chick', Freddy?" Summer snapped, but she flushed a dark red color as another girl walked into the room and instead she stared straight ahead, dismissing Freddy's triumphant hissed _I told you so_.

This other girl had glossy brown hair so dark it looked black under the dim school lighting, with electric blue tips peeking out. Her crystal blue eyes were outlined heavily in black kohl, but her creamy pale skin didn't look washed out or pallid. She had a distant expression on her face and seemed much less approachable than Deanna, holding herself in a way that seemed to suggest that she wasn't the friendliest of new students. This, and the fact that she didn't want to be there, was made clear by the way she glowered at the class. Her gaze landed on Zack and Summer, sitting close together, and a dark look passed over her face.

"Deanna! Look at them!" She marched over to them and, putting one hand on each shoulder, tugged them apart. "You're not a proper shipping, get away!" Summer stood up uncertainly, looking nervously at the girl as she made flapping motions towards her. "Shoo! Go on, get away!" She sat down in Summer's vacant seat, and pushed her in the direction of Freddy. "Go. Go on. Go sit next to lover boy over there."

"_Me?_" Freddy pulled a disgusted face. "She's total nerd. Like she'd have a chance with _me_."

This time Deanna went over, as the other girl was still stubbornly occupying Summer's seat. "What are you doing?" she scolded him. "Summer is over there hanging all over Zack and you're next to Billy! You're supposed to be the proper shipping, go over there and kiss her romantically like in all of the popular fanfictions!"

The other girl started laughing loudly, as though in on some private joke that had the rest of the class confused. "Allow me to introduce myself," she said, with the first smile they'd seen. "I'm Wyverna Lazzara - authoress and all-round SoR fan. But of course, you wouldn't understand a word of that." She glanced over at Deanna and winked. "Right, Nanners?"


End file.
